


You're the Honey and the Moon

by innie



Series: Portfolio [3]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innie/pseuds/innie
Summary: Maybe he should be insulted that Merlin can keep his train of thought even through one of the top five kisses of Eggsy's life, but he chooses to think of it instead as Merlin's improbable brain, not knowing it was trapped in the body of a sex god, chugging along, full steam ahead.(A few overdue conversations.)
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad & Merlin, Harry Hart | Galahad/Percival, Merlin & Lee Unwin, Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Series: Portfolio [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599244
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76
Collections: 2019 Kingsman Stocking Stuffers





	You're the Honey and the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts), [zebraljb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/gifts), [Snafu07](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snafu07/gifts).



> Finishing this little series, in which Lee lives!
> 
> elrhiarhodan requested model Eggsy, photographer Merlin, and designer Harry; Snafu07 wanted gymnast Eggsy; and zebraljb wanted Harry/Percival.
> 
> Title from the gorgeous (and not at all tonally appropriate) song by Joseph Arthur.

Eggsy's used to being a little bit of a loner — can't really compete at any kind of legitimate level and not know what it's like to be all alone in the spotlight, the sole focus of a stadium's hushed attention — but it's bending his mind that of all the people Merlin's studied through his lens, all the lookers who've made love to his camera and made him make them look good, _he's_ the only one who bothered to see the man taking the pictures. It don't make sense, else, because how can anyone look at him and not fall head over heels?

He wonders what Da thought of Merlin, back in the day. He's gone and ransacked Mum's old albums, searching for a glimpse of the man who looks at him like he's never had anything better to focus on. There are snaps, all the men looking like skinny kids, lit up with exhaustion and exhilaration, but Merlin's not in them. Except one — he's out of frame except for an arm wound round Da's neck, but Eggsy would know that strong, fine-boned hand anywhere.

*

"Merlin, Christ, you look just the same," Da says, standing to hug him and Merlin returns the embrace for a long moment.

"That's a shame; everyone else I know has got better looking," Merlin says, clapping Da on the back. Eggsy stealthily grabs his hand when he sits down.

"Clean living," Da lies solemnly, hoisting his Guinness and beckoning Tom for a round for the three of them.

"Never tried it," Merlin lies back, like he's not basically the sexiest monk of all time. Eggsy's not going just on Harry's indiscreet ramblings about how long Merlin's celibate streak has lasted, but on the shy wonder that illuminated Merlin's face from that very first day back in the studio.

"That I'd believe, if you're pulling twenty-five-year-old lads," Da says, one eyebrow up, and Eggsy is ready to give him a good kick.

But then Merlin laughs like a loon and says, "Just the one, cheers." Eggsy brings their joined hands to rest on the top of the table and it's like Da and Merlin are having a contest over who can grin bigger. They must be fucking joking — he's wearing the biggest smile of all.

It lasts through all their talk of jobs and how they've worked their way through the past few decades — Merlin keeps insisting that he's just a tinkerer and that Da's the one with the real gift, but Da's look assures Eggsy that Merlin is a terrible judge of his own talents — and then vanishes when Da wanders into the territory he's had his eye on from the first: the vast field of mortifying his only son.

"Never knew I could love something so much," Da says, voice gone a little hoarse from having laughed so much whilst drinking his way through a fair few pints, and he's lifted his index finger from the glass to point at Eggsy, "specially something all red and squashed and jus' _so_ ugly."

"Oi!" Merlin is _laughing at this_ , and there goes any hope Eggsy's got of keeping the enchantment going. He's going to miss Merlin's wonderstruck moony eyes.

"You remember what Dais looked like when she was brand-new," Da says, as if he's making a perfectly reasonable point, and Eggsy, heartened by the arm Merlin's wrapped round him, has to admit it's a fair point.

"How did red and squashed become 'Eggsy'?" Merlin asks, and Da's grin grows positively diabolical.

It's only the feel of Merlin's warm thumb stroking against the grain of the hair at the nape of his neck that keeps Eggsy in his seat. He's kind of curious himself, because it's been ages since he heard any of this; Da'd never spilled the real story to any of the reporters who came sniffing round every Olympics.

Like he's a fucking bard of the old school, Da is gesturing expansively. "Our Eggsy was quite a conspiracy theorist, back in his youth. He heard _Da's goin' to work_ , heard his friends say their parents said the same, and thought, right, this 'work' is obviously some big party we're not invited to, so he starts askin' me all sorts of questions about where's work and why can't we have work at home, and all the rest. And here I was, thinking what a bright spark my boy is, so curious about Da, missing his Da, that I'm trying to answer. Only, how can you tell a wee one that you're on the bomb squad?"

Merlin's thumb is magical. Eggsy feels fully shielded from the repercussions of whatever past idiocy of his Da's about to reveal. "So I'm trying to think of how to explain without making him worry, and then I see Michelle's egg timer. I wind it up and let it tick and that's it, he's not the least bit interested in anything Da has to say anymore. He took that thing bloody everywhere, wouldn't sleep without it. Our little Egg."

*

"Daisy's much classier than I was," Eggsy says as they're walking toward the studio, where they're supposed to meet Harry. "She falls asleep to a metronome."

"Ooh la la," Merlin agrees, straight-faced, and Eggsy laughs into his mouth, too eager to kiss him to wait.

"So now I got the goods on you an' Da," he says, getting them both seated on the bed and cuddling in — he needs the warmth of Merlin's arms if they're going to keep the studio so chilly — "are you gonna tell me about you an' Harry?"

"We met our first day at Winchester," Merlin says and then stops, as if Eggsy might not have been aware until that fucking minute how wide a gap there is between them, public-school toff and estates lad.

"And? How'd you get to be friends?" They seem so dissimilar, but there's no mistaking the devotion between them.

"I've asked myself that so many times," Merlin says, and Eggsy gets the distinct impression he's not playing for humour. "I honestly can't account for the beginning, but I know how we've managed to keep going." Eggsy tips his face up and lets his expression ask for him. "We listen to each other, even though we have so little in common that we even ask each other different questions. He asks me what I'm working on, I ask him who he's shagged."

"Legend, is he?" Eggsy could see that — Harry's beautiful and uninhibited.

Merlin rolls those compelling eyes. "Harry's fucked everyone from royalty to rebels, and always manages to have a grand old time."

As if on cue, the studio door swings open and Harry barrels in, so single-mindedly in search of Merlin that Eggsy's invisible. "I fucked Michael," Harry croaks.

"You _what_?" Merlin says, startled into letting go of Eggsy and catching Harry's flailing arms.

"Or maybe he fucked me. Possibly both. There was a lot of fucking."

"Why?" Merlin asks, as if this is a reasonable question. Merlin's got a hell of a way in bed, but he's got a leash on himself too, one that Harry evidently was born without.

"Never mind why," Eggsy says and Harry turns his head sharply to stare at him like Eggsy's a prophet about to spill where the promised land is.

"Yes, never mind why," Harry repeats eagerly, frowning at Merlin.

"The question," Eggsy continues mercilessly, "is what you're gonna do about it." He's guessing this Michael person is an old friend, and that things could get very messy if the aftermath isn't handled delicately. Why he's the one seeing this instead of Merlin, who was literally on the bomb squad, is a riddle for the ages.

Harry's face falls. "That is what I was asking Merlin. Merlin's a 'next step' sort of fellow."

Eggsy smirks. "Merlin knows _all_ the steps."

"Yes, yes, splendid," Harry says, trying to rush things along if his frantic gestures are any indication. "Very pleased you're so satisfied with one of my oldest friends, just tell me what to do with the other one!"

"Merlin," Eggsy says, watching Harry actually _wring his hands_ like he's a character in a Victorian potboiler, "a word?" It's only when he sees Merlin's smile that he realises he's borrowed their phrasing. Harry flops back dramatically on the bed as soon as he and Merlin get up, so he pulls Merlin out of Harry's earshot. "This gonna wreck lives?" he asks bluntly.

"It just might. I'd say Michael's been pining for a fair few years and Harry never saw it."

If royalty and rebels were opening their legs for Harry, small wonder he'd not looked up from the sex buffet. Eggsy looks up at his own personal feast, rises up on his tiptoes, and gives Merlin a good kiss. 

Maybe he should be insulted that Merlin can keep his train of thought even through one of the top five kisses of Eggsy's life, but he chooses to think of it instead as Merlin's improbable brain, not knowing it was trapped in the body of a sex god, chugging along, full steam ahead. "Michael deserves to have someone who thinks he hung the moon."

"We all do," Eggsy says, laying his cheek on the royal-blue jumper stretched across Merlin's chest.

"Yes," Merlin says, ducking down for one more quick kiss, "we do."

*

"Hello, Michael, I'm Eggsy," he says. The man looks like a banker, except for his eyes, which are far too kind. Eggsy has no idea how Harry has overlooked this one, who — fuck's sake — is wearing a suit, tie, and pocket square that Harry had designed. Harry is quite clearly an idiot.

"Hello, Eggsy. I'm very glad to meet you." Michael's voice is nice too, and Eggsy has to assume that Harry had killed off brain cells with every orgasm, because there is not one thing wrong with the man shaking his hand.

Merlin's eyes are jumping between his two friends, and he takes a step forward to snag Eggsy by the elbow. "Did I mention that I have the images from the shoot?" Merlin asks, and as he is dragged away Eggsy sees the quick, grateful smile on Michael's face. Michael is a brave one, because he takes a step closer to Harry, who is still sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, and begins to speak.

Strain as he might, Eggsy can't hear what Michael is saying, and Merlin steals back most of his attention with a hand petting his hip. "What do you think —"

Determinedly ignoring him, Merlin says, "So, here are the pictures," and egomaniacal as it makes him feel, Eggsy can't help but look. He can tell by the scribbles in the margins that these shots have not been altered or retouched, and it is stunning to think that that is how he looks. Or at least how he looks when Merlin's attention is on him. 

Harry's clothes fit him like a second skin, and he'd been surprised at how comfortable he was in them, despite his preference for jeans and cuddly jumpers. 

There he is, grinning over his shoulder at the viewer, palm up as if to check for rain, wearing a charcoal-grey suit with a pearly pink shirt and silver fleur-de-lis tie. 

There he is again, this time in a navy waistcoat and trousers, a striped green tie undone at his throat, a pencil clenched between his teeth, Merlin's specs on his face, as he dashed between two places so that his legs were in a split. 

Over and over he rediscovers his image, sees that Merlin had made art of him, his face and body. It is strange, and he reaches out an arm to Merlin, who cuddles him close, but not before putting one last image on the top of the stack. "This one's my favourite," Merlin says into his hair, and Eggsy shivers at the promise of breath against his skin.

There he is in a brown three-piece suit and hat, hanging off a lamppost, a bouquet of daisies in his outstretched hand, eyebrows up and hopeful as he calls out a name. The curve of his body was only possible because of hours of drills and stretches, back when he'd had coaches and teammates and fans. He looks from the image to the man who'd made it and smiles, not missing the past. "Now I got you," he says, and kisses him.

"Yes, you do," Merlin says, dropping the pictures and picking him up. Over Merlin's shoulder, Eggsy can see that Michael is sitting next to Harry and that they are holding hands as they speak. He grins before ducking his head to kiss Merlin once more.


End file.
